


The Dreaming Jewels

by jer832



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Apparent Non-con, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mind Games, Mind Rape, Non-Consensual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jer832/pseuds/jer832
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Leather and raven feathers and forged steel, raw silk and blue topazes and sapphires were they, and heat and want and need, and he took her on the moor.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dreaming Jewels

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this short-short one-shot to a challenge photo in an adult comm on livejournal. The jewels were named in homage to the brilliant Theodore Sturgeon, who had written a novel with the same name. My creatures are not based on his, my story is not related to his novel, THE DREAMING JEWELS; no ownership of the title "The Dreaming Jewels" or his concept is intended or implied on my part. Beta'd by the amazing BHB. Thank you for... everything.
> 
> * * *
> 
> addl note: _repercussion: a result or indirect effect, a recoil after impact, a reflection._ People kept asking what happened next, when was I going to give them a sequel with more shagging, and so on. My novella DARK RETROSPECT (posted on AO3 in three parts), is not a sequel, per se; it tells the repercussions. A version of "The Dreaming Jewels" is part of the novella, and I've changed "dreaming jewel" to "dreaming star sapphire".

 

 

 

* * *

  


She was pale blue silk and plunging jeweled satin bodice, soft pale skin (quite a lot of it), sunlit hair, and plump take-me-now lips. He was black leather and raven's feathers. He didn’t stop to wonder in his haze of desire and lust why the most powerful baron in the kingdom would be alone on the moors at winter solstice. Or why she would, and in such delicate finery.

Leather and raven feathers and forged steel, raw silk and blue topazes and sapphires were they, and heat and want and need, and he took her on the moor. He threw her down with a shout; with a shout of her own, she wrapped her hands in his long dark hair, and hooked a strong silk-enveloped leg over his empty scabbard and around his thigh, pulling him down with her.

He pressed a long, leanly muscled leg between her legs then knelt in the space he'd made between her thighs. He felt tiny hot fingers fumbling with his laces and pulled her hands away. She whimpered. With a dark smile, he drew her arms up over her head, holding them in place with one hand as he undid his laces and freed himself with his other. He had planned to remove his clothing slowly, taking pleasure in her reactions as he tormented her with his intention, but he found himself enraptured by her. Her huge hazel eyes traveled down his body; and as surely as if they were made of flesh and muscle, they grabbed hold of his cock and his balls and squeezed. The tip of her tongue poked greedily through her smile, eager to measure his substantial length. He shed his clothes quickly

His knife sliced through the fine jeweled satin and rare French silk. His eyes, known by others to be as blue as the topaz jewels hanging off her thin throat, were black and unblinking as they traveled her pale naked flesh, heating it to a rosy blush. He licked dry lips. Then his mouth was on hers, hard and bruising, and in hungry acquiescence she opened to him, Their tongues fought fiercely but without malice as his strong sensitive hands learned every centimeter of firm smooth breast and ass and thigh. Her skin was soft and fragrant and hot, so very hot. He sucked heat from her throat and stiffening nipples. She was his air, his sustenance; he knew he was a dead man without her.

She screamed as two long cool fingers entered her abruptly, but she was wet and ready for him, so ready. She clenched around him, and he withdrew. “You like?” he hissed against her cheek, “Want more?” She whimpered, then twisted her tongue into his ear and mumbled something into his hair. As he turned, curious enough to ask her what she’d said, she threw herself up and snatched his mouth, suckling him with a wanton frenzy, pushing her tongue between his lips, sucking his in and biting. The taste of her mixed with the blood she’d drawn, and he was addicted.

His fingers thrust into her again. He added a third and twisted them until she squealed. Her muscles clenched so hard around him that her body shook. She raked her nails down his back and bit into his flesh just above his breast, drawing blood from him again. Oh, but this one was a feisty vixen! He’d have a mark from that. He slammed into her harder, deeper, sheathing himself in her tight heat up to his knuckles. She writhed beneath him, moaning and sobbing breathlessly for some god he didn’t recognize.

His cock was jealous of his fingers, and his balls ached. Sliding onto his knees once again, he pulled her legs up onto his shoulders, opening her further, and positioned himself at her opening. He stared down at her. Though he’d never wanted anyone more in his life, he’d never felt so… dirty, so obscenely wrong. His grip on her legs lessened. She looked up at him, suddenly silent. Her enormous hazel eyes filled with trust and love. He was paralyzed to move, to think.

Large powerful hands pulled him away. He rolled and continued on, moving to where he’d dropped his weapon. But the stranger had anticipated his move and kicked the sword away. With a scream he rose to attack-- and found himself lying on his back on the hard cold surface, the stranger standing over him. The man was tall and fully muscled, and at least as powerful as he. His face was beautiful, his eyes almost blue and deeply sad, and his mouth angry. His fists twitched as if he were fighting a battle within himself. “Cover yourself,” the other rasped in a strange accent, dropping some kind of leather covering over him, then moved from him to his woman, (Yes, she was his woman now, she bore his marks of ownership, regardless of what this sad-eyed stranger did to her.). He heard his woman scream and threw himself up to avenge her. The sad-eyed man kicked his legs from under him, and he went down like an old man. The stranger held him down with a foot and a good quarter of his substantial weight, then with a knee on his chest.

“The dreaming jewels did a real number on you two. This is just to help you relax.”

As he fell into unconsciousness, he saw the stranger lock his woman’s necklace in a small metal box.

**~~~**

 

The Doctor limped into the kitchen. Jack Harkness sat at the table with a cup of coffee and a cup of tea with which he beckoned.

"Do you remember what happened?" Jack asked.

"Bad dream."

"Yeah."

"Mine or Rose's?"

Jack slid a small metal box across the table. The Time Lord caught it but didn't open it.  Jack looked into the Doctor's eyes. "Does it matter?"

 

 

 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=47611>


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